The Charge

"I'm the Daddy now!"

Opening Statement

A freakish cross-breed between Tony Richardson's somber The Loneliness of
the Long Distance Runner and Kinji Fukasaku's ferocious Battle
Royale, Scum caused quite the uproar in conservative Britain upon its
release in 1979. Created for BBC television, Scum was promptly shelved by
the network, which found it too despondent, bleak, and anti-establishment to
release. Undaunted, the filmmakers reshot the project as a feature film two
years later, making it even more brutal and nihilistic, a savage attack on the
Borstal system of young youth offenders which became an instant underground
classic.

Cult fans and collectors will be thrilled to learn that this DVD release of
Scum contains not only the theatrical release, but the rarely-seen BBC
version, with many of the same actors playing the same roles in both
versions.

Facts of the Case

When a new boy, Carlin (Ray Winstone, Sexy Beast), gets transferred to
a new Borstal, his arrival is greeted with apprehension by staff and inmates
alike. In his last Borstal, Carlin had assaulted an officer, which immediately
places him in unfavorable standing with the staff, who take special pleasure in
beating and humiliating him to show him who is in charge. Likewise, the
Borstal's "Daddy," a fierce boy named Pongo, makes sure Carlin knows
his place from the start with a few solid beatings.

Carlin makes friends with an inmate named Archer (Mick Ford, How to Get
Ahead in Advertising), who seems totally out of place. A quiet,
introspective youth, he fights the system in his own small little ways,
intimidating the screws (authorities) with his icy demeanor and intimidating
intellect and taunting the authorities with bizarre personal habits, requests
for vegetarian food, Dostoevsky novels, and his interest in Mecca. Since he
never resorts to anger or violence, the screws have no idea how to deal with
him.

Carlin, on the other hand, takes in the animosity with a quiet fury,
refusing to be drawn into making a move against either the Daddy or the screws
(officers) until the time is right. Carlin used to be a Daddy in his last
Borstal and plans to be one again. Mercilessly, he removes Pongo from power and
begins to run the institution with an iron fist, turning the entire institution
into an unlit powder keg...

The Evidence

Scum has some downright disturbing imagery and violence, often
frightening in their intensity, a gut-wrenching, Lord of the Flies
youthful fury mixed with healthy doses of Orwellian anti-establishment. Once we
enter the Borstal, the film never leaves. It is merciless in its presentation,
refusing to flinch away from violence, abuse, foul language, and the horrors of
a repressive, repulsive, and draconian system of reform full of racism,
humiliation, suicide, and sexual abuse.

At the time of its release, Scum turned quite a few heads, but its
timing was rather unfortunate. When the BBC version was made, the Borstal system
was still alive and well in Great Britain, but by the time the feature film
reached the market, the system was in the process of being dismantled. While
time has been fairly kind to the film, much of the emotional impact and violence
-- groundbreaking at the time -- is rendered irrelevant by cultural barriers and
social reform. After all, Borstals never quite made it to North America. Though
the blood and gore seem almost tame by today's standards, the violence in the
film is still quite profound and disturbing, if only for its sheer unrelenting
nature.

There is not a single benevolent character in the film to be found, save the
lone female presence in the film...the Matron. She is the only reasonable and
halfway gentle soul in the film, despite giving off that creepy Nurse Ratched
vibe, and she only seems nice to the boys in comparison to the violence and
abuse hurled upon them by the "pigs." Between the rampaging beatings
delivered by fellow cons, the rape and sexual assault, and the overwhelming and
nauseating amounts of racism and belittling, Scum simply never lets up
its verbal and visual assault until the last frame of the film, save for one odd
sequence. The only noticeable break in the violence comes from a scene between
an officer and Archer that drags on longer than it probably should; a sharing of
personal philosophy and ideology rebukes the Borstal system and debates the
merits of the British criminal system regarding youths. In a film so
uncompromising in its violence and self-destruction, this introspective sequence
is the only vehicle available to add moral fiber and backbone to the film, but
the change in gears from violent exploitation to political rumination is like
accidentally mistaking reverse for fifth gear on the highway. It's halting, to
say the least.

Between Archer and Carlin, Scum attacks the hypocrisy of the Borstal
system with the subtlety of a battleaxe. In an attempt to steer youths away from
violence and disobedience, the humiliation and aggression forced upon them in
the Borstal only reinforces the innate anger and repression stirring in Carlin,
which eventually erupts. Archer attempts to find small and subtle ways to
disobey and express his desires, which go completely under the radar of the
officers, who only know how to handle flagrantly disobedient and violent youths.
All around them, black inmates are beaten and have racial epitaphs hurled at
them, while weaker boys are tortured and raped for sport and often commit
suicide. To the officers, the young boys were scum or worse than scum, bugs to
be stamped out beneath their feet and ruled with an iron hand in an attempt to
humiliate and scare them into straight behavior. The system utterly destroyed
the weaker children, leaving them broken or dead, and aggravated the violent and
strong offenders, amplifying their hatred and animosity towards authority; the
bitter irony is brought to the point of exploitative hyperbole in Carlin's
brutal rise to power, as unsympathetic as it is merciless.

Restored from the original masters, Scum has an excellent
presentation, considering the film's age and operating budget. Though there is
still some noticeable print damage and white spotting throughout the film, the
transfer has been cleaned up nicely, with deep black levels, decent sharpness,
and good grain control. Colors are muted, but slightly saturated in the
reds.

As for audio, there is no soundtrack or score in Scum; we are forced
to listen to the sounds of life in a Borstal with no distraction or reprieve. In
addition to the original mono presentation, both a Dolby Digital 2.0 and 5.1
Surround track are available; all of these tracks sound very similar due to the
film's largely central channel presentation and weak bass response. The 5.1 only
distinguishes itself by a small margin during scenes of chaos and ambient
noises, when the back channels stretch their legs slightly.

The second disc contains a delight for cult aficionados and film purists
alike: the original BBC produced version of Scum, which differs from its
counterpart in production quality, small casting changes, and certain sequences.
It is quite fascinating to watch the film progress from the BBC version to the
theatrical version, observing the transition from stage play to
made-for-television adaptation to theatrical film. The amount of violence and
gore increases exponentially between each transition, but certain elements never
made the transition to feature film. Most noticeably absent from the final film
is a homosexual relationship between Carlin and another inmate, an omission that
Minton later regretted. The alternate version is certainly a treasure trove for
fans of the original broadcast (which did eventually make it to air), but lacks
the production values, exceptional acting performances, and intensity of the
theatrical version. The audio quality and transfer for the BBC version has not
seen the restoration work of the theatrical version, to say to least; full of
grain, hiss, print damage and spotting, the presentation is fairly atrocious,
but certainly watchable.

Both versions of the film come with excellent full-length audio commentaries
-- the theatrical version with star Ray Winstone, and the BBC version with Phil
Daniels, David Threlfall, and producer Margaret Matheson, with selected scene
commentary by Ray Winstone. Winstone's commentary in particular is a riot and a
half to listen to; it's a ranting, bitter anti-establishment tirade mixed
smartly with details from the shoot and set memories. Awesome. Other extras
include a 17-minute interview with producer Clive Parsons and writer Roy Minton,
still galleries, and the original theatrical trailer...a fantastic offering.

One surprisingly savvy decision on the part of Blue Underground is the
inclusion of English subtitles on both versions of Scum, a feature which
assists deciphering the complex and thick youth slang that often borders on
unintelligible. Normally, one doesn't give much thought to subtitles, but trust
me, they come in handy here.

The Rebuttal Witnesses

Scum's terrorizing bleakness makes for the stuff of underground and
cult classics, but fails to actually accomplish anything relevant. As previously
mentioned, by the time Scum was reshot as a feature film and released to
the public, the Borstal system in Britain had been abandoned, making the social
relevance of the film somewhat diluted.

Yes, people have a soft spot for this kind of brutality in cinema, but it
usually has a point behind it; some motivation for its uncompromising violence.
Too often, Scum seems violent for the sake of being violent, without any
rhyme or reason other than to shock and horrify audiences. After a while, one
loses patience with such juvenile behavior -- no pun intended.

Closing Statement

Scum loses some of its shock value over the passing of time, but still
remains an endearing cult classic, a triumphant merging of British social
realism and exploitation cinema. With both versions available on DVD together,
Blue Underground has done a fantastic job releasing the film to the North
American masses.